tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
by AnthroQueen
Summary: Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart.


**Hi friends! Wow, you want to talk about a story getting away from me, or what? I honestly don't even know what this is. I had a dream, it was excruciatingly vivid, and I decided to write it. Basically the end? It's not very cohesive and I don't like it very much, but it's been sitting here in my doc manager for like a week and a half and I'm sick of looking at it. It kind of, sort of deals with the shit hitting the fan after 7x10, but not really? Kind of in my own, lazy, let me tie a ribbon on this thing and put a Band-Aid over a bullet wound kind of way. You know me. I will stop at nothing to bend canon to fit my every whim. :D**

 **I reference A SHIT TON of movies, song lyrics and poetry in this piece and I'd bore you to tears if I listed them all but I own nothing, okay? Any specific questions, you know where to reach me. I'm always around because I have no life. I'm sure you figured this out, but the title and the description come from "The Scientist" by Coldplay, which was actually strangely useful in helping me bang this thing out. Honestly, when I think of Canon!Spoby, "The Scientist" always comes to mind. I wish I could tell you I had faith in the writers to fix them before the show's end, but you know I don't. I lost faith three seasons ago.**

 **Anyway. Thank you for always being there and putting up with my shit. You know I love you all to the moon and back. :D  
**

* * *

tell me you love me, come back and haunt me

It moves in slow motion. Honestly, Spencer's not sure she understands the phrase _faster than a speeding bullet_ , because for her, it moves so slowly it's almost in reverse.

Her heart is hammering wildly against the cage of her chest, but she does not pay it any mind; if they're going to make it out alive, one of them has to focus and for some reason, that someone is always her. Her eyes go wide. And then there is a shot.

 _When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you've got plenty to watch._

When that bullet clips her shoulder, embeds itself beneath her collarbone, burrows deep into her flesh, this is the first thing she thinks of.

It comes to her in waves, seemingly at random; most recently, it had come to her while she sat on the couch and watched her fling with Caleb dissolve right in front of her as she realized she didn't have him anymore and maybe, she never really did.

And it comes to her right now.

 _She's sitting, cross-legged, on the couch in his familiar loft, wearing only an old t-shirt of his and a pair of his boxers, hair cascading around her shoulders, feeling at peace and at home. She's laughing at something he's said, she can't exactly remember now, but he's grinning before her, his eyes alight with glee, his hair sticking in all directions in a testament to the activity they'd been engaging in all afternoon. Reaching forward, Toby hands her a fortune cookie from the bag of takeout on his coffee table and her laughter subsides as she accepts. You can't read the fortune before you eat the meal, she insists, the cookie's supposed to be dessert. Yeah, the cookie sucks, though, Toby replies and cracks his right down the middle. My mom always said it was bad luck to wait until after the meal. Bad luck? She remembers asking. Are you pulling my leg? He grins and reads his fortune aloud- the best year-round temperature is a warm heart and a cool head. They have a big laugh about that one. She splits hers, too, and the crumbs rain down into her lap as she pulls the slip of paper from the middle crease in the cookie. And she reads-_

 _When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you've got plenty to watch_.

She crumples to the ground with the taste of laughter and happiness on her tongue, the smell of fried rice still lingering in the air. Her vision blurs and blood begins to bubble from her chest and pain explodes like fireworks from the gaping wound, numbing all rational thought. Surely, she must already be dead. Screams of terror emanating from her friends are foggy and muffled as though they're coming to her through a wall and then she thinks of it again. _When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you've got plenty to watch_. But what has she seen? What has she done? Where is she going? Where has she been?

 _She's shaking like a leaf. Ian frees her and holds a crowbar over her like the end of a murder mystery she's too young to have seen- Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the revolver. She shrugs out of her mother's embrace and ignores every impulse to run to Toby until her heart overpowers her brain. In his arms, she feels safe. In his arms, her heartbeat ceases its incessant racing. In his arms, she is loved._

 _The look on his face is something she'll never be able to replicate. Admiration mixed with awe combined with so much love. And her heart swells and his breath catches in his throat and she can tell he's going to say it before even he does. "I love you so much," and his eyes soften with the admission, partly out of vulnerability and partly out nerves, as if he's never dreamed of her saying it back despite the fact that they've both been feeling this way for a while. As usual her mouth works faster than her brain- "I wanted to say that first"- and then they're kissing. She'll never grow tired of the kissing._

 _She decides she's ready the moment she sees him standing there. He owns her body, her mind and her soul. They're kissing feverishly atop that cozy red chaise that had become their spot time and time again and when he pulls back and looks her in the eyes, she watches as that pure, porcelain blue grows cobalt with desire. "You sure?" He asks, even though she knows he knows the answer, even though she nods and confirms this verbally, even though they've already passed the point of no return. And the thing is, she_ is _sure, but even if she wasn't, that simple moment where he made this all up to her, where he asked before taking something so very sacred, would have completely changed her mind. They fall back against the bed and the nervous excitement rushing through her veins is mirrored in his eyes and he's the answer to all of her questions. He is her end and her beginning._

 _Tears sting the backs of her eyes and she bites her lip hard in order to keep them behind her lashes. She tastes blood. She can't dare to look at him, now; not after all that's been said- or unsaid. Going behind her friends' backs is one thing and she can handle disappointing her parents- it's not the first time and likely won't be the last- but Toby? She can't handle Toby. But then his lips part and, softly, gently, he says the one thing she should've expected all along- "I wish you could've told me what was really going on instead of me finding out this way." And that's when she finally meets his eyes. He knows. And there isn't any disappointment or pity or judgment in those baby blues of his. If anything, it's guilt- perhaps he blames himself for not being enough, for not noticing sooner- and sorrow- perhaps he understands why she's done this and maybe he doesn't agree with her methods, but he's always understood. Over her shoulder, Spencer glances at her mother's disapproving stare, judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one, and when she turns back, Toby's gone, the Scrabble necklace left behind in his wake like a gift for the dearly departed._

 _The moment she steps into the house, she regrets ever making the decision to come home in the first place. In her living room, stand her father, Toby and Tanner. For a moment, Spencer wonders if the Rosewood P.D. would really be so cruel as to have her boyfriend arrest her for murder (and not in the fun, kinky way they'd role-played in the bedroom) and she turns to make her great escape but then stops. The DA is dropping the charges against her and thank God almighty, she is free at last. Overcome with emotion, she erupts. She doesn't know whether to laugh, to shout with glee or to burst into a bout of hysterical tears but she doesn't even get the time to consider her options before the third takes over. Tanner glances away at the sight and her father shifts uncomfortably as she bawls, tears streaming down her face uninhibited, for this is the kind of emotion he's always taught her to keep inside. Suddenly, she's surrounded by strong, comforting arms and she clings to him like a lifeline, falling apart at the seams. Her shoulders shake with shuddering sobs and he holds her even tighter until her broken, jagged shards of a soul meld back together and she's whole again. "It's over, Spencer," He whispers, soothing and calm and everything she needs right now. "It's all over."_

 _They emerge from that underground bunker in a daze. The air is sticky and humid and Spencer can almost feel her hair begin to frizz and curl around her shoulders. There's a bright light that shines right in their eyes and she squints, rubbing her tired sockets fiercely, and the group begins to splinter off. Three armed officers tear past her into the bunker and Hanna and Aria get torn away into different directions by their respective paramours. Spencer feels the grass, cool and wet, beneath her feet and the fog begins to roll in and she's so, so tired. She's not sure she'll ever be able to sleep; every time she closes her eyes, the dollhouse and all its terrors are all she sees. Glancing to her left, she spots Mona in a daze- Charles had really done a number on her- and collects her in an embrace even though they had never been friends. They're alive, they're survivors, they'd banded together, and this experience will link them for life. And then, she hears it- over the radio calls and the shouts and the muffled crying, she hears her name and her heart lifts at the sound. Across the lawn, Toby's holstering his gun, completely breaking protocol though no one seems to mind or expect any differently. She breaks out in a run, throwing herself into his arms the moment she gets close enough and the force of their embrace lifts her off of the ground. She trembles uncontrollably in his arms and he's holding her so tightly she's almost sure she'll crack in half. She doesn't want him ever to let go and it seems as if he has no intention to. It's now, right now, that all the fear she'd kept at bay and all the horrors she'd endured and all the tears she'd held back in the time she'd been held against her will come spilling past her barriers and explode into the moonlight. She's never truly herself until she's with him and this both frightens and placates her all the same. He hugs and kisses her, holds her for hours, and promises they'll get this son of a bitch who'd caused her pain. She loves him endlessly for it. She believes him._

 _The house has sold. His truck's packed high with belongings in boxes from a life she doesn't really know anymore. She almost didn't come today, but he hadn't said goodbye and if she didn't make an effort to keep up appearances, she might not ever see him again. She presents him with the anthology of French love poems they used to read from back when they were still an item, because he'd loved it more than she had and because staring at it each and every day was like picking at a scab, watching it bleed and heal, and then repeating the process all over again. When she tells him she's happy for him, she means it with all her heart. When she tells him he deserves the grand, epic love that spans decades and continents, she means that, too, and he smiles, but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. In that deep cerulean, Spencer sees something else instead; sorrow. Longing. Guilt, perhaps, but more so loss. It's the same look she'd seen that night he'd come to tell her the house was originally meant for her and she'd said his new life with Yvonne sounded perfect, but he'd told her it wasn't; that nothing ever was, but this was really close. That look had physically pained her then and it was doing so, quite effectively, now too. She turns to go and makes a split-second decision and before she can even think twice, they're kissing. When their lips meet, it reignites a fire deep within her and all her senses come alive, peeling off cobwebs and swiping off dust from the crevices of her soul. When their lips meet, it feels like all is right in the world again; there is no –A, there is no pain, and everything will be okay as long as she and he are together again. When their lips meet, she feels it deep down in her core; the last puzzle piece slides into place, all the Ts have been crossed, all the Is have been dotted and she is whole as he replaces the portion of her heart he's kept safe all these years. When their lips meet, she feels like crying. She pulls away first and his lips trail after her, his eyes fluttering open, half-disappointed and half in love. She pulls away first because she's not sure if he can. She walks away because he's frozen in his spot. She walks away from him immediately because if she doesn't do it then, she never will._

Pain courses through her veins and the girls are shouting unintelligible words and that stranger is still pressing down _hard_ on her wound. Her eyes swim in unshed tears as she takes in her surroundings one last time. She's sure she'll die.

 _When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you've got plenty to watch._

The stars clouding her vision meld together into an omniscient black. She feels the life leave her body, with bright blue eyes still branded upon the forefront of her mind, their last kiss lingering on her lips.

* * *

They're in the middle of a fight when it happens and Toby wonders if this should've been his first clue that everything was going to fall apart.

Hindsight _is_ 20/20, after all.

He's quiet, introspective, contemplating. Yvonne is saying something about the view from their new apartment and Toby doesn't have much to say- he hadn't gone with her to pick it out. Maine is colder and snowier and to be quite honest, he isn't completely looking forward to the change. She switches the topic over to something her mother had said on the phone last night and Toby smiles and nods in all the right places but he just can't seem to focus. His mind is too far gone. All he sees when he closes his eyes is that look in Spencer's before she'd walked away; _can I kiss you? Just one last time? Just to say goodbye?_ He'd been paralyzed to the spot, unable to speak or even nod, but he certainly hadn't meant to kiss her back. _What was that he'd once told her about habits?_

"Did you at least get to say goodbye to Spencer before we left?"

Her name snaps him from his dazed reverie. "What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, she came by earlier."

"Good," Yvonne nods simply, picking at her chipped nail polish. "I'm not going to lie to you- I don't think I'm going to miss her. Or, really, any of your friends."

Toby frowns. "Why not? You told me you liked her."

"Oh, I do. This has nothing to do with her as a person, Toby. I just feel like… she's a lot to handle," Yvonne shrugs. "It seems like, since your friends came back, you've been the cleanup crew for all the messes they make."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Wherever they go, drama seems to follow," Yvonne says. "And somehow, they _always_ get you roped into it. I'm just… I'm not going to miss that."

Toby's silent and Yvonne must misread this, for she explains, "Toby, I don't… I'm not trying to discourage you from seeing them. I just think that we have more important things to worry about than whatever trivial things they always seemed to involve you in."

"They're my friends," Toby replies and Yvonne sighs.

"Yeah, and they're really needy!" She tells him. "They exploited your position of power and manipulated you into helping them because of it. Not to mention the dates you missed with me because you were too busy helping _them_."

"That was one time and I apologized and I am truly sorry about it," Toby shoots back. "And they didn't manipulate me into doing anything! I agreed to help."

"Yeah? And what kind of help could Spencer possibly, _constantly_ , need from you?" Yvonne asks. "All day? All night? Something you couldn't even tell me about?"

He sighs in exasperation. "It's not like that."

"I'll tell you what it's not like. It's not like you were helping her change a flat tire or check her credit score," Yvonne says, typing furiously into her cell phone. "If you ask me, it's almost like she's…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, say it. Go on. Say what you're thinking."

"I don't think I even need to!" She exclaims. "We can't get out of Rosewood fast enough, for my liking. We don't need to live here and be around someone who's… who's…"

"Who's _what?_ "

"Who's still in love with you!"

"That's crazy," Toby says, but even his voice betrays him, now. "She's not in love with me."

Yvonne glances over, her fingers still, skepticism in her eyes. Toby can almost feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow, the hastening of his heartbeat, the shallow, labored breathing, as he glances back at her. She exhales in exhaustion, like they've been fighting this tireless fight for ages instead of mere seconds, and her shoulders sag slightly in somewhat defeat. "Do you really believe that? Or are you just-"

A deer leaps out in front of the truck, then, and Toby's eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. He grapples with the steering wheel for approximately thirty seconds before sending them into a tailspin, ricocheting off the slick pavement, and smashing head first into an oak tree.

 _When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure you've got plenty to watch._

Once upon a time, he had been in love with Spencer Hastings and to his own disbelief, she had loved him right back. Once upon a time, they had been silly children eating Chinese food in his loft and _this_ had been Spencer's fortune. They'd thought nothing of it, at the time.

It's all he can think of, now.

 _He still can't believe she's here, sitting next to him on his front porch. There's an open French textbook sitting between them and an ocean of guilt and regret that she's just begun to cross. For a brief moment, he wonders if she's here to rub salt in the wounds even further, but then she apologizes for casting aspersions and her eyes are so genuine, so sincere, and he'd like to drown in them. A small glimmer of hope begins to blossom within him. She may have fallen victim to the same predator he has, but now, he's not alone. They're in this together. C'est dommage. C'est la guerre._

 _He should've known better than to mention the shadows he'd noticed in Jason's house. Nothing can activate Nancy Drew-mode in his girlfriend faster than mentioning a clue to a mystery she has yet to solve. When Peter steps out of the DiLaurentis house, Toby spots shock on all three faces, his included. And perhaps he should learn to hold his tongue; perhaps he shouldn't have gotten involved in a matter that really isn't any of his business, but Spencer had looked so incredibly confused and surprised and hurt and Toby is so damn sick of everyone being against her all the time. And so he sticks up for her and then she sticks up for him and, like always, they're a team. Soon, Peter's yelling and Toby refuses to back down and Spencer's yelling back. They climb back into the truck and tear off into the night, gravel popping and hissing under their tires, as Peter continues to rant and rave behind them in a trail of anger. She's shaking in the passenger seat beside him and before he can even say a word, she apologizes quietly. He pulls over, kills the engine and collects her in an embrace. He holds her until she stops trembling._

 _These past few weeks have been hell. He knows he's had it easy in comparison to her, but this doesn't soften the blow his entire soul takes the moment he finally lays eyes on her again. Beneath that black hoodie, she looks hardened, hollow and raw and her voice is venomous when she tells him, "I stopped worrying about me a long time ago." He finds this ironic, really, because they're now polar opposites when it comes to the matter of her safety. They return to the motel he's been hiding in and the tension between them is thick and insufferable. The only sound is the faint buzzing of the radiator, which clicks on and off seemingly at random, and the fluorescent motel sign splays blue rays into the room through the crack in the blinds. Spencer crosses her arms hard over her chest and Toby feels like crying. She's kneeling before him, both hands caressing his face, before he realizes he is. And then they're kissing and he can never get enough of this, can never get enough of_ her _, and he's not quite sure how or why she's forgiven him, but he will try until the end of his days to prove to her that he deserves it._

 _She mentions checking the facts and Toby's not sure he's heard her correctly. She can't seriously have just suggested going back to Radley, the place of both their nightmares. "You'd go back there?" He asks in disbelief and hopes she understands he's chock full of awe and gratitude, not judgment. She seems to understand; she nods and tells him, "If I thought it would help." And suddenly, they're there, and Toby doesn't like this one bit. He keeps a steady eye on her for any sign that this is too much for her, that this is doing nothing but instigating memories she'd care not to relive, but Spencer is cool as a cucumber and he should've known all along; she does not crack under pressure. Once they're inside, Spencer makes a beeline for the corridor in question and Toby's palms begin to sweat. The building still smells like Clorox and the linoleum still squeaks beneath their sneakers. In the moonlight, Spencer's eyes seem to glow, but they aren't wide and fearful or full of regret like he might have previously assumed they'd be. Instead, she glances out the window, at the ledge and the fifty-foot drop below, and sees something he hadn't seen because he'd been too overcome with grief to notice. Before, Toby had been sure that his mother had committed suicide, had left him behind by her own will, but now? How could she possibly have cleared that ledge on her own? He glances at Spencer, then, and is grateful for her and all the support that she's given him that he momentarily gets choked up. She grips his hands in each of her own and promises that they'll find the answers he's looking for. He loves her endlessly for it. He believes her._

 _It's a lot to take in. They're sitting in a comfortable silence in his truck, an ocean of distance between them, as he contemplates every last detail she's finally put out in the open. In the year or so since they'd been dating, all he's ever wanted was for her to feel like she could be completely open and honest with him about everything that was going on in her life. But after they'd suffered not one but two breakups because of –A and had come back together clinging to one another, finally able to breathe again, Toby had all but assumed that day would never come to fruition. But here they are. She won't look at him, almost as if she's afraid of what he'll say or ashamed of herself for waiting so damn long to put this all out in the open. And hadn't they been here, way back when? Hadn't he asked if she'd trusted him and she'd broken up with him instead? He doesn't know if she's realized the full extent, at this point, of her growth and how far they've come as a couple and as individuals, but he does know he'd been right all along- she's afraid of how he'll react now, knowing the truth. She's picking at the fabric of her jeans absentmindedly and her eyes are downcast when she asks, "Are you mad at me for waiting so long to tell you?" He wants to chuckle or even tease her the tiniest bit, but he knows the moment doesn't call for it; she's genuinely concerned. "Spence," He calls softly and catches her attention, gesturing for her to return to his arms where she belongs. "Get over here."_

 _He's trying to concentrate because he's pretty sure if he doesn't, he's just going to step on her. Honestly, his nerves are in a tangled knot in his stomach right now and he knows no one is- no one_ cares _\- but he feels like everyone's staring at them, like all eyes are on him, as they sway together in the middle of the floor. He's been to two school dances in his entire life- the homecoming with Emily back before any of this mess had even started and this one, right here, right now- prom. He wasn't about to turn Spencer down when she'd asked, but things had gotten complicated when they'd been banned and then they'd snuck in and he's not sure any of it really matters, anyway. Spencer looks so undeniably, remarkably gorgeous that he had actually stopped breathing for a moment when she'd come down the stairs this evening. Rarely, if ever, do these girls catch a break and have time to enjoy their regular high school experience and just as he's going to comment on this and tell Spencer that, actually, he's truly enjoying himself tonight, he spots the look on her face. Alison had really gotten to her, back there, and she can't stop stewing over the fact that they, all four of them, had completely lost their high school years to an ungrateful monster who takes and takes but never gives. He asks about her commencement speech because he genuinely wants to hear it, but perhaps this is the wrong thing to mention because prom isn't the only school event they'd been banned from attending. She ends up reciting the Reader's Digest version and Toby's never heard a more beautiful or inspiring testament to another person before. "Wow," He remarks. "I think your mother would be pretty moved by that." She gives him an odd sort of smile before her eyes grow soft and sappy and saccharine. "Yeah, she might be. But I wrote it about you." He wishes he could think of something just as meaningful in response; even an 'I love you' doesn't seem to suffice, here. He kisses her instead and hopes she understands._

 _His truck's piled with boxes and they're hitting the road in an hour. Toby glances over his shoulder at the house that had gone to an unknown bidder and he thinks this is for the best. He doesn't hear her approach, but she calls out a greeting and he finds himself almost giddy at the prospect of seeing her, despite the fact that goodbyes are just about his least favorite thing on the planet- especially goodbyes to her. She reaches into her pocket and produces a small collection of poems he used to read and recite in broken French whenever she needed a pick me up or a laugh, a memory he knows he'll never be able to forget. It's dog-eared in the corner and the back cover is limp, but it still smells like her bedroom and he holds it close as she inhales a deep breath. He can tell she's about to make a grand declaration and he has to hand it to her- she's being completely genuine when she wishes him well, when she expresses how glad she is that he's found the love he deserves. He can't detect an ounce of bitterness or pettiness in her tone and something about this makes his heart ache. He turns back to the truck, but she's back in an instant and when she asks the question- "Can I kiss you? Just one last time? Just to say goodbye?"- he can't even formulate a single sentence. His brain has already turned to goo, his heart's roaring wildly like a caged circus animal, and then her lips are on his. She kisses him and all his nerve endings come alive. She kisses him and he feels whole again, solid, complete, one. She kisses him and he realizes this is what he's been waiting for, all along; this is what kissing is supposed to feel like and he must've forgotten all these years. She kisses him and he's not sure he'll ever be able to kiss another again. She kisses him and then, he kisses her back._

Glass from the windshield rains down into his hair, his eyes, his lap. The seatbelt slices across his throat as their bodies are thrown about like rag dolls and a branch pierces the passenger side, leaves floating, confetti-like, to the ground. His head smashes against the dashboard and his vision explodes with stars. He's sure this is the end.

Unimaginable pain whisks him into unconsciousness like a lullaby. He searches and searches for the comfort of her embrace, but does not find it; star-crossed lovers with terrible timing, always just out of reach.

* * *

She dies during surgery.

At least, she's pretty sure that's what happens. In triage, nurses cut open her sweater, hook her up to a dozen different machines and transfer her to a gurney, wheeling her out of sight, and shouting that they need to get her to an OR, _stat._ She's cold; she's really, really cold and she's pretty sure she'd be shivering right now if she could will her body to do anything. The bullet is still in her shoulder and from there, she becomes a ticking time bomb. She's losing too much blood. She's growing weaker by the second. The anesthetic begins to take its effect and she slips into unconsciousness fluidly and almost instantly, the quickest and easiest way she has ever fallen asleep. It's stranger, though, than usual; she dreams in harsh, vivid colors, voices and sounds a cacophony she cannot quite decipher and then, it happens. Like a simple snip, cutting the umbilical cord between mortal and immortal life, Spencer feels free and weightless and suddenly, she begins to float above her body, merely watching carelessly as the doctors move frenetically below.

 _You'll never get where you want to go unless you know where you've been._

She dies.

Doctors and nurses alike race against the clock, rushing blood through an intravenous line and prepping the paddles for the defibrillator, but Spencer feels at peace. It's something her father always used to say to her and Spencer had always assumed it was so she would work harder, appreciate life's struggle more whenever she faced life's triumph, but she always found it to be a bit nagging. Now, she understands. In a split second, that feeling of peace turns to panic, and she tries desperately to grasp anything in her path. _You'll never get where you want to go unless you know where you've been_. She understands, now. She can't help but picture Toby, can't help but see the dissolution of their relationship, and her heart gives a painful, unwanted tug at the thought. If she wants to make amends, she must first learn from the experience. She needs to get out of here. She needs to go back. _Please_ , she asks to anyone who will listen. _I'm not ready to go yet. I haven't figured it out yet. Just give me one more shot._

Her heart jumps back to life and she gasps out three breaths and she lives.

Her doctor in charge exclaims, "Jesus. Someone up there must like you. You're getting a second chance."

And she's back. She's _Spencer Hastings_ again.

She wonders how many second chances she's allotted. She wonders if this is the time she'll get it right.

* * *

Catherine McGuire has been working in this hospital for almost fifteen years and yet she's never seen a case quite like this one. Accidents of this nature just don't happen here in Rosewood; it's such a small, quiet, sleepy town and she never would have guessed that something as tragic as this car accident could ever occur. The night staff had recently passed the patient over to her care and had shown her a photo of the vehicle from the accident- a pickup truck crumpled like a soda can- and Catherine had grimaced and wondered how this poor, twenty-four-year-old male had even made it out alive. She takes a moment to thank her lucky stars that there had been no casualties- even the deer had made it safely to the other side of the road, skittering out of sight- and knocks softly on the door, stepping into her patient's room.

Twenty-four-year-old male is sound asleep and the clipboard at his bedside reads _Cavanaugh, Toby_. Catherine does a quick scan through his medical history and wonders why that name sounds so familiar to her. She doesn't recognize him, although she's not sure if she would anyway; his face is bruised and bloodied as he sleeps off the anesthetic, oblivious. He's sustained some minor injuries- a few cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, numerous abrasions- and a moderate concussion that is likely to keep him down for the count for a few days, but Catherine sees no reason why he shouldn't make a full recovery. She smiles at this notion; nursing isn't glamorous, but she gets great satisfaction out of those she can heal.

When she turns to his bedside to adjust the morphine drip, Toby stirs. His eyes flutter open and Catherine is greeted with the bluest blue she has ever seen. She watches him blink a bit, taking in his surroundings in a state of utter confusion, and she says, softly, "Hi, Toby. My name is Catherine. I'll be your nurse today. How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

He manages a small shake of the head and then winces. She nods, seeming to understand. "You've sustained a pretty good concussion. I wouldn't try too much movement just yet."

Toby opens his mouth to murmur something, but the words must get stuck on his tongue, for she watches him struggle and can't quite grasp what he's said. "The anesthetic tends to make people a little groggy and a little dry-mouthed. Here- let me get you some water."

Catherine crosses the room where a tray table rests, an uneaten meal resting upon it, to pour him a cup of the cool, refreshing liquid. And yet, Toby croaks out, "Spencer."

"I'm sorry?" Catherine asks, returning, as he accepts her gift absentmindedly. "I didn't… I didn't catch that."

"Spencer," He repeats, his grip on the cup slackened and spilling its contents onto his blanket, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as sleep overcomes him once more. "Spencer…"

Catherine gently pries the cup from his grasp and places it at his bedside, refilling. She monitors his vitals for a moment and then delves deeper into his clipboard of information, noting the bottom: _patient was brought in with twenty-four-year-old female sustaining similar injuries, stable condition_.

She frowns, her heart aching, and hopes that wherever Spencer is now, she's recovering well.

* * *

She's in a lot of pain when she awakens. The doctor tells her she's lucky to be alive and the next face she sees is her mother's, her sister and father crowded by the doorway behind her.

She cranks up the morphine and slips back into unconsciousness.

It's easy, now; she glides from consciousness to unconsciousness so fluidly, she wonders how or why she ever struggled with it in the past. She'll enjoy it while she can; she's sure her mother is, right now, speaking with the doctor about her addiction tendencies and working to find an alternative route to pain management. The doctor's words are still floating around in the forefront of her mind, even after she's fallen asleep; _you're lucky to be alive, Spencer, we almost lost you_. She knows; she'd felt like a ghost for just a split second, hovering over her lifeless body on the operating table, awaiting recalibration. _Life isn't like the movies, Spencer, and we're lucky you didn't suffer more extensive damage. It could have destroyed your shoulder joint and crippled your arm or severed the nerves in your shoulder and paralyzed you completely or shattered the collarbone or damaged the muscles and tendons or given you a serious blood infection that would likely lead to organ failure and a sure death_ …

But it hadn't. By some miracle, she's still here.

Her dreams have been out of control, though, and she's sure the pain medication has something to do with it. But sleep is warm, sleep is inviting, sleep is calling to her, and she relents. She wonders how much sleep she needs before she's caught up on years and years of deprivation. There is no pain, no heartbreak, no misunderstandings or shortcomings when she's lost in her own subconscious and today, she wonders what her mind will have in store for her.

Her morphine-laden mind treats her to a musical.

She feels almost as if she's out of the loop, like everyone else is in on some big secret, because she keeps seeing these things that had already happened to her (her breakup with Toby, the first time she'd seen Yvonne's engagement ring, the time he'd told her about the house actually belonging to her) and yet, they're not like she remembers them at all ( _Bad Day_ , _You Can't Always Get What You Want_ , _What I Did for Love_ ). All around her, people are singing, dancing, preaching and Spencer watches as these projections point out each flaw in her logic and planning and she feels anxious, dizzy, sick. She tries to force herself awake to no avail; like a carnival ride she cannot escape, she must endure and she collapses to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut and begging the storms to pass.

And they do; when her eyes open again, they've reached the glorious finale. She's kissing Toby under a shower of rose petals. He's wearing a tux and she's donned a gown; there are wedding bells in the distance.

 _Miracles Happen_.

Spencer's not sure how her subconscious thinks this will happen. But she _is_ sure this is a dream she's not quite ready to relinquish.

* * *

It can't be a coincidence that just when they were talking about getting a fresh start, they get into a serious car accident and get a second chance at life, too.

Yvonne's not entirely sure she ever wants to return to Rosewood, to be perfectly honest. She hadn't known the extent of its ugly secrets and skeletons in innumerous closets, but now that she does, she's completely okay with leaving for good. She understands Toby's still attached, but if they're ever going to make this marriage and future family of theirs work, it certainly isn't going to happen here. She purses her lips at this thought. _Toby_. She has no idea what's gotten into him, lately. Ever since he'd thrown himself willingly back into the inferno for his friends, he's been completely unrecognizable to her. He seems antsy, on edge, distracted, and Yvonne wishes she was oblivious to the real problem, here, but she isn't. She understands; really, she does. But that doesn't mean it doesn't completely and totally infuriate her.

She _is_ human, after all.

By some miracle, she's managed to escape serious injury. When she first awakens in the hospital, the doctors tell her she's lucky to be alive, that they were able to patch up all her bumps and bruises, and all the other clichéd doctor phrases she expects from years of binge-watching _House M.D._ on Netflix. Her right arm's broken and in a sling, but that's the only injury she's sustained save for a few abrasions here and there. Of course, her first thought is Toby and when she asks after him, they tell her he's suffered a fairly moderate concussion and is still unconscious. Demanding to see him immediately, Yvonne peels back the blankets from her own hospital bed and gingerly steps onto the cold floor, slipping her feet into the shoes that had been left at her bedside. He's located just down the hall and when she first lays eyes upon him, it makes her heart ache. His face looks like Rocky Balboa's punching bag and his eyes are fluttering beneath his eyelids; he's completely dead to the world.

But he's alive. And so is she.

The nurse at his bedside is a redheaded, bespectacled woman who is adjusting medication into his IV line when Yvonne approaches and glances upward at the sound of footsteps. Smiling, she asks, "May I help you, dear?"

"Hi," Yvonne nods. "How is he? I'm his fiancée."

"Oh," The nurse beams knowingly. "You must be Spencer. He's been asking for you."

Yvonne stills, her voice catching in her throat. "He has?"

"Oh yes. Quite a bit, actually," The nurse chuckles. "He's doing just fine. He'll be in quite a bit of pain for a while, but I imagine so will you."

"Yes," Yvonne replies, her mouth forming a line. "I'm sure I will be."

* * *

He awakens, squinting in the sunlight, and finds Yvonne sitting at his bedside, one arm crossed harshly over her chest. The other's in a sling and her hair is still matted with dried blood, but she's mostly okay- hell, she's doing better than he is- and he couldn't be any more relieved to see her.

"Hey," Toby greets her, his voice thick and groggy. "Are you alright? What are you doing here? How come you're not in bed like me?"

"I've been discharged," She replies simply and there's something a bit _off_ about her voice and Toby can't quite place a finger on it. She gestures towards her cast and says, "Broken in two places but I'm okay."

"Good," He sighs with relief. "I was worried."

"Were you?" Yvonne wonders. "Seems to me like I wasn't your first priority."

"What are you talking about?" He asks and his head starts to spin. He's pretty sure the concussion has something to do with it.

"Oh, that's right. You hit your head pretty hard. Let me remind you," She seethes. "The nurse told me when you first woke up that you were asking nonstop for someone who wasn't me. Want to take a wild stab in the dark at who you _were_ looking for?"

He doesn't. It all comes back to him, now. His eyes close and he exhales heavily, trying to find the best way to explain himself even though there's no explanation to give. "Yvonne… I have so many pain meds pumping through my system right now-"

"Yes, yes, let's blame the medication," Yvonne nods. "If anything, we should thank them, right? For finally bringing the truth to the surface."

"The truth to the… What are you talking about?"

"You _know_ what I'm talking about," Yvonne counters. "I wanted to leave Rosewood so we could start our family together, away from all the pain and suffering and drama that this town brings. But also, I wanted to leave because I wanted to get you away from Spencer, because ever since she's been back, I thought you haven't been yourself. You haven't been the _same_."

Toby frowns. "That's not true."

"No, you're right. It isn't." Yvonne shakes her head. "Because I'm not sure I ever really _knew_ the real you. And I think when Spencer came back… She brought you back, too. I wanted to leave Rosewood, but I don't think you wanted to leave. And I don't think you're ready to leave her."

He sighs. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that she was the first person you ever loved and I don't really think you ever stopped. I'm saying that you always told me you two had a really hard breakup, that you'd gotten closure and moved on, but I don't really think that's true," Yvonne says. "I'm saying that ever since she came back, I've felt like your second choice and as long as she's around… that's all I'll ever be."

"I'm sorry," Toby says simply, as if this will fix anything, as if this will staunch the gaping wounds she's just ripped into their relationship. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I really do love you."

"I'm not disputing that," Yvonne smiles sadly. "I love you, too. But… I don't think you're _in_ love with me. And we shouldn't be together if that's not the case."

"So… This is it, then?" Toby asks and he wonders why he doesn't feel more ashamed of himself or why he isn't mourning this failed relationship as much as he had the last one. "We're just… We're over?"

Yvonne sighs and slips the ring off of her finger, handing it back to him prophetically. "It wasn't meant to be, I guess. If you stayed with me- and I have no doubt that you would because you're too noble a guy for your own good, Toby- you would be settling. And you deserve better than that. We both do."

"I don't want you to feel like you're second best," Toby frowns. "You're such an amazing person. You deserve someone who treats you like royalty; someone… someone who makes you their top priority. I'm sorry it couldn't be me."

"You know what, Toby? It's okay. You deserve that, too," Yvonne says. "I want you to have the kind of love they make movies on, you know? Something grand and epic and beautiful. That's the kind of person you are. That's the kind of love you need and deserve."

"You too," He reiterates and feels lame, like a copycat trying too hard to be genuine. "I really mean that. I want you to find happiness and love."

"Thank you," Yvonne smiles and stands, heading for the door. She pauses in the doorway and says, "Good luck. You're going to need it."

"Thanks," He replies and just as she's crossed the threshold, he asks, "Wait, Yvonne!"

She turns back. "Yeah?"

"You think…" He trails off, trying to find the best way to put his feelings into words. "You think I'm still in love with Spencer-"

"I _know_ you're still in love with Spencer," Yvonne smirks. "Go on."

He frowns. "When did you… When-"

"The first day I met her," Yvonne cuts him off. "I thought maybe I was imagining it back then and that time would tell. And it did."

Toby shakes his head. "How?"

"Honestly? It's all in the way you look at her," Yvonne says. "When I first met Spencer, I could see it in her eyes; poor girl looked _so_ uncomfortable by the mere idea of me. And I thought, _isn't that funny how some people just can't move on?_ But then I looked at you. And you had that same look in your eyes. And then I thought, _isn't it funny how your first love never actually dies?_ "

"Oh," Toby replies quietly. "I didn't know I looked at her any differently than I look at anyone else."

"Toby," Yvonne rolls her eyes as if she's already growing tired of his shit. "You have a Spencer look. They write novels on that look. And honestly… I would have loved to have been on the receiving end of it."

Toby frowns and knows he's royally fucked up. Yvonne lets this hang in the air between them for a moment before turning and walking out of his life.

He never sees her again.

* * *

After Yvonne leaves, Toby feels lost. He stares at the wall opposite his bed and can't help his mind from racing. _You fucked up another relationship. Way to go. Looks like you'll be spending the rest of your life alone, after all_.

Emily appears, knocks on his door, and breaks him out of his depressing, self-deprecating slump. "Hey. I heard a rumor you were dead."

Toby manages to paste a smile on his face at the sight of her. "Those rumors were greatly exaggerated."

She chuckles, crosses the threshold, and pulls him into a hug. He winces as she does so, but hugs back to the best of his ability, before she yanks her arms back, asking, "Oh god, am I hurting you? I heard about your shoulder and your ribs; I shouldn't even be touching you, should I?"

"I'm okay," He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

"What happened?" Emily wonders. "You and Yvonne were off to Maine and then…?"

"A deer came out of nowhere," Toby replies simply, ignoring the tug his heart gives at the mention of Yvonne. "Thankfully, we're all fine- me, Yvonne and the deer- but the truck is gone. It's in at least a hundred pieces."

"Oh my god," Emily shakes her head. "And where is she? Yvonne, I mean? Is she as banged up as you?"

"No, thankfully she fared much better than I did. She was discharged this morning with just a broken arm and a few cuts here and there," Toby says and then sighs. "But… I don't think she'll be coming around here anymore."

Emily frowns. "Why not?"

"Well… We're not getting married. We're not even together anymore," Toby fills her in. "And I guess I won't be moving to Maine. I might need a place to stay for a while."

"You can stay with me as soon as you tell me what the heck is going on," Emily shakes her head. "You guys broke up? You were in a car accident, you both almost _died_ , and instead of pulling together, you fell apart?"

"That's exactly what happened."

"Why?"

"She thinks… She thinks I'm still in love with Spencer," Toby emits reluctantly. "And, honestly, she might be onto something, there."

He waits for this admission to elicit shock and confusion from his best friend, but this never comes. Emily simply nods knowingly and leaves Toby wondering if he's the only one who hadn't known this all along.

"You think?" Emily deadpans as if she's read his mind. "What was the final straw?"

"When I woke up here, the first time, I guess," Toby replies. "I asked the nurse for Spencer. And when Yvonne came to visit…"

"The nurse thought _she_ was Spencer," Emily fills in, nodding. "I get it. But she can't fault you for that. I mean, you have a concussion _and_ you're on a lot of pain meds. You probably had no idea what you were saying."

"Except, I did. The second she mentioned it, I remembered asking for her and I wish I could blame the anesthesia, but I can't," Toby says. "I wanted it to be her. And apparently, even my subconscious knew that."

Suddenly, Emily grows very quiet and Toby's brow knits together in concern. "What's going on? Why do you look like that? I know I'm an awful person and I shouldn't have put Yvonne through that; believe me, I've been kicking myself all afternoon, but-"

"No, Toby, it's not that. It's just…" Emily sighs. "I just realized you've been here, you've just been in an accident, and so… So no one's told you about Spencer."

His palms begin to sweat and his heart bangs wildly against his ribcage. "I really don't like the way that sounds. What happened?"

"I'm still not really sure, myself. –A was there and Jenna and Noel and he was going to kill us, but he met his end first, and-"

"Is she okay?" Toby begs, because he really doesn't need to hear the details of yet another confrontation with their tormentor. "Please just tell me she's alright."

"She was shot, Toby," Emily says as gently as she can and his face must change with a kaleidoscope of emotions because she winces as she meets his eyes. "I'm so sorry. She's been in and out of consciousness since then; I haven't spoken to her yet. The doctors seem to think she'll make a full recovery but she lost a _lot_ of blood and-"

"Does she need blood?" Toby asks and struggles to sit up, ready to offer his vein now if she needs it. "I'm O positive; I'm a universal donor."

"No. No, she's okay," Emily assures him. "Melissa, actually, donated. They're the same blood type."

"She'll hate that," Toby comments. "Now she _literally_ owes her sister her life."

Emily nods. "No one plans on telling her."

Toby still feels anxious, unsettled, like he hasn't done enough and he goes to push back his blankets and instantly feels dizzy. "I need to see her."

"You're bedridden. Lie down," Emily shakes her head. "She's okay. Or, at least, she's _going_ to be okay. I promise you I'd tell you or physically take you there myself if she wasn't. You're a good person, Toby, and you've suffered enough."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Toby says and Emily frowns. "Any of it."

"Yeah, I know," Emily agrees. "Nothing _ever_ goes as planned."

* * *

Her parents and sister come to visit again and Spencer has nothing to say to them. She pretends she's asleep and before long, she really is.

When she awakens, she's alone again and this is how she prefers it. She was born to be alone, she thinks; she tends to fuck up every relationship, romantic and friendly alike, life throws her way. She doesn't know what's happening anymore; she's been in and out of consciousness for days on end and she feels like Marion Cotillard's character in _Inception_ , unsure of where reality ends and her subconscious begins, the lines blurring beyond comprehension. Spencer's memory of that night is foggy, too; she remember the darkness, she remembers counting each one of her friends' bobbing heads as they descended the staircase and then she remembers the unimaginable pain that had overcome her senses before everything had faded to black. She wishes she knew what was going on, but her life has spiraled so far out of her control, she's not sure she'll ever be able to get herself back on track.

Her mouth is dry and she feels like crying. Her nurse had brought her a huge pitcher of water and told her to rest, but she feels miserable and the only thing on her mind is her sorry state. There's a knock on her door, then, and when Spencer glances up, Emily is standing there hesitantly, as if she's not quite sure what to make of her best friend, and behind her, the other three girls crowd the tiny hallway, awaiting entry. Spencer is grateful beyond belief to see someone who isn't related to her and croaks out, "Oh my god. Hi."

"Hey Spence," Emily smiles and her hesitancy seems to have passed. She crosses the room and takes the seat at her friend's bedside, the others following suit. "This is the first time you've been awake when we've shown up."

"You've come before?"

"Everyday," Aria nods. "I'm sorry we only caught you when you were comatose."

"That's okay," Spencer says and her voice still sounds like gravel in a garbage disposal. She reaches shakily for a cup of water and downs with all the haste of someone who's been stranded in the Sahara for three weeks. "How are you guys? Is everything okay?"

"Are you seriously asking _us_ that question?" Hanna wonders. "You were fucking _shot_."

"Yeah, you don't say?" Spencer rolls her eyes. "It hasn't been a walk in the park, but I haven't seen you in days."

"We're fine. You almost died," Alison says. "I seriously think you have a death wish."

"We've been dealing with a murderous sociopath and psychological torture for almost seven years," Spencer replies. "How do we not _all_ have death wishes?"

"Yeah and it's not like she did it on purpose, Ali," Aria says. "She didn't jump in front of the bullet. She was just…"

"Collateral damage," Spencer fills in. "Or at least, that's how it's always felt."

"We're getting close to the end, girls," Alison states, suddenly the leader again, but it feels out of place. "I can feel it."

"Feel it, can you?" Hanna asks. "Well you're the one who started this whole thing, so why don't you end it so we can all move on?"

Alison frowns. "I'm not sure it's that simple."

"Nothing's _ever_ been that simple."

"So where do we go from here?"

They're silent a moment before Spencer speaks up. "I might have an idea."

"See? And you all were worried this would change her," Alison smirks. "The real Spencer's been in there all along."

They speak a bit longer before Spencer grows tired and weary and one by one, the girls stand to go to give her some space. Emily's the last to depart and she hangs back a moment to tell her, "That night, when you were shot… Toby and Yvonne were in a pretty serious car accident."

Her eyes must become saucers because Emily's quick to assure her, "They're both okay. Yvonne broke her arm and Toby dislocated a shoulder and cracked a few ribs, but they're recovering. I just thought you should know."

"Oh my god," Spencer whispers, her heart racing. "Thank you for telling me. God, I'm glad they're okay. That's awful."

Emily nods. "She broke up with him, too. Yvonne, I mean. She told him she was tired of always coming in second. Not a great week to be Toby."

"They broke up? But they're engaged! They can't just…" Spencer's shaking her head so fast, she's near given herself a headache. "They're just… over?"

"That's what Toby says."

"And… that's it? He's not going to try and get her back?" Spencer frowns and then asks, "Wait, coming in second? What does that even mean? Who is she coming in second to?"

Emily eyes her, her look reading, _Come on, Spencer, you're the smart one_. "You're seriously asking me that question?"

* * *

Caleb comes to visit the day after the accident and Toby's not sure he really has anything to say to him anymore. Once upon a time, he'd been Toby's best friend; they'd hung out, commiserated, laughed and joked together and they'd bonded and gotten along easily, thick as thieves.

Things are not that way, now.

He stands there in the doorway of Toby's hospital room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say or how to confront the elephant in the room. Toby stares at him, speechless still, and realizes the impulse to punch him in the face still stands. Clearing his throat, Caleb says, "Hey, man. I heard about the accident. I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Toby nods. "Emily tell you?"

Something dark passes through Caleb's visage as he shakes his head and murmurs, "Hanna."

A ball of fury erupts in Toby's stomach but he refuses to blow his top. "Back on her, huh? Your tryst with Spencer meant nothing, then?"

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Caleb sighs. "I know things aren't ever going to be the same with us; I pretty much rendered that impossible. But we were friends once and I just… I want to find a way for us to get back to that."

"I don't know," Toby shrugs. "I don't know if I can do that."

Caleb nods slowly. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I'm sorry for what I did. I never should have crossed that line. I knew you weren't over her and yet… Even when I asked, I knew you weren't okay with it and I still… I'm just sorry, Toby. I really am. I'm sorry for what I did to you."

"It's more than that, though," Toby says, shifting a bit so he can sit a little straighter, look his friend in the eye. "It's about what you did to _her_. You realize that, right? You realize that it's about both of us?"

Caleb is quiet and after a beat, he confirms this. "Yeah. Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking."

Toby states, "You treated her like shit."

"And I'm really sorry about that too," Caleb says.

Toby replies, "Well don't tell me. Tell _her_."

"I have. I'm not sure she believes me."

"Can you blame her?"

Caleb frowns. "You two were some of my best friends. I'm sorry that I ruined that."

"Yeah," Toby nods his agreement. "I'm sorry, too."

* * *

He can't stop thinking about her. And on a day when he wakes and the room stops spinning, he steps out of bed and sets off in search of her.

He finds her room after an hour of searching. The door is wide open and he steps inside slowly, still unsure of what he'll say upon the sight of her. Her chest is rising and falling evenly and she's lying so still she could be sleeping, but she must sense the change in the air, for her head turns away from the window and she meets his eyes. "Hi."

"Hey," Toby replies lamely and he wishes he could find the strength to say something, literally _anything_ , else. Here they both are, bruised and battered, and yet, sunlight still creeps in and fills the cracks in his broken soul upon the sight of her. "Look at us."

"Yeah," She chuckles the tiniest bit. "Look at us. Damaged goods; both of us."

"Yeah, I guess so," Toby agrees, nodding towards his injuries. "Have you ever seen anything more pathetic in your life?"

"I don't know," Spencer says wistfully. "Do you have a mirror?"

He grins and she grins and suddenly, it feels like nothing's changed. No heartbreak, no Caleb or Yvonne, no pregnancy scare; they're just two crazy kids who'd looked for answers and justice and found love instead. They have all the time in the world. He grows a bit lightheaded at the thought and leans against the doorframe as Spencer's brow knits together in concern. "You okay?"

"Head wound," Toby replies and sinks into a chair beside her. "I think I just need to sit down."

She nods slowly. "I heard about the accident. I'm so sorry."

"I heard about the gunshot," Toby counters. "I can't believe that happened."

"It's okay. Whatever they've got me on is _good_ ," Spencer says, motioning toward the IV drip. "I'll have to go through some PT for a bit, but I should be fine."

"Me too," He nods. "I'm getting out tomorrow."

"Good," Spencer says. "And then what?"

He hasn't thought too far ahead, but technically he's homeless and jobless. He has no idea what his next step will be. "I don't know."

After a brief silence, Spencer says, "I'm sorry about Yvonne."

Toby shrugs. "Thanks. It's not your fault."

Spencer eyes him and they both know that's not true. "Isn't it?"

He hadn't planned on the conversation taking this kind of a turn and he stands, suddenly anxious to leave. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. I just needed to see you."

"Thanks," Spencer calls to his retreating back. "For visiting, I mean. I'm glad you're okay, too."

At the doorway, he turns and asks, "Spence, when you and Caleb were…"

He still can't say it, can't believe it had ever been true, and she seems to understand and puts him out of his misery. "Yeah?"

"Did you ever…" Toby's not exactly sure why he's asking, but he needs to know that he's not the only one in this deceased relationship that hadn't been able to let go. "Did you ever think of me?"

"Are you kidding?" Spencer replies and he wishes she hadn't led with that. "Constantly. I thought about you constantly."

"You did?"

"I couldn't stop. I tried really hard not to, but it was _impossible_ not to compare the two of you," Spencer admits. "I've been doing that for years and with any guy I've dated since you and I broke up. I guess it was kind of like a coping mechanism or something but all it actually did was set me up for failure because… No guy has ever come close."

Toby doesn't know what else to say; he merely nods. He doesn't know if this makes him feel better or worse.

* * *

Her life has fallen apart. She's been shot and though she survives, she's still stuck in limbo, watching helplessly as everyone else moves on without her.

Just when she thinks she and Toby just might make it through to the other side, the sun rises on a brand new day, Toby is released from the hospital and he makes visiting her his final stop before he leaves, delicious, sinful anger in his otherwise placid eyes. She should've known sooner or later that their ticking time bomb would hit zero and they would implode.

"I can't go anywhere until I know the truth," Toby begins and Spencer sits a little straighter, captivated by his fury like she always has been. "I know it's second nature for you to let lies just roll off your tongue, but I've always tried to be completely honest with you and I need you, right now, to grant me that same courtesy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Spencer says and for once, it's actually true. "I never made lying to you a habit. Believe me, you're the one person I always wanted and always tried to be honest with."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Toby tells her. "You kept me so out of the loop sometimes, it was like dating a ghost. But we're not talking about that now. You told me yesterday that you thought about me constantly-"

"And that's the truth!" Spencer insists. "I know I'm probably the least trustworthy person you know, but you _have_ to believe me when I tell you that. I still care about you. I want you to be happy. I-"

"Why did you come back here? And don't give me this –A, Charlotte, Alison bullshit; I want to know the truth. You were done with Rosewood when you left and nothing could've brought you back- not even them. Not even me," Toby asks. "Why did you come to the house that day to say goodbye? Why couldn't you have left things the way they were? Why did you kiss me?"

Spencer's chest is heaving and she isn't sure what to say. Should she lament, repent and apologize? Should she explain all the confusing, twisted things she's been fighting with in her mind? Or should she finally express her own anger and get her own thoughts out in the open?

She ends up doing the latter.

"Why did you tell me that house was originally for me? Believe me, I've been agonizing over that ever since and I can't live with myself now that I know," Spencer implores. "Why did you agree to get involved with this shit all over again? Why did you help with Mona and with –A when you should've been with Yvonne? Why did you blow her off to be with me?"

"You're joking, right? Tell me you're joking," Toby fumes. "I didn't want any of this! I didn't have to do any of this! I did it for _you!_ "

"Why?" Spencer exclaims and she can almost see his blood boil, as if he's reaching new levels of rage.

"Why? _Why?_ " Toby explodes. "I didn't want any of this, Spencer. I was doing _you_ a favor! You're my ex-girlfriend and we were supposed to stay friends, and even though we didn't, even though we were both too proud to admit how much we both fell apart after our breakup and how much we still feel for one another and how we definitely didn't get any closure, I still care about you! I don't want you to get hurt! _That's_ why I did what I did. I didn't need you getting into any more trouble than you were already in and I didn't want you to get hurt because you keep doing these mind-numbingly stupid things when you're in danger and so I felt like I should protect you- I felt like I _had_ to protect you- because no one _ever_ does. And in case that bullet in your chest wasn't a reminder, you're not invincible, Spencer."

She wants to be touched by this sentiment, but her mutual anger burns this out, blinds her like the sun's rays, giant dark spots in her vision even after she's closed her eyes. "Well, protecting me isn't your job anymore, so why are you consistently throwing yourself over the cliff when I'm already dead at the bottom?"

"Because I love you! Don't you get it? Don't you see that?" Toby asks and his anger has melted, just a tad, into astonishment and disbelief. "Don't you see that it's been years and years and nothing has changed? You _have_ to see that. I don't accept that you don't see that. We're still circling this same drain, running around like chickens with our heads cut off, chasing our tails, coming back to this same spot. I love you and I've always loved you and I was kidding myself to think I could ever get over that."

And Spencer's speechless, Spencer's taken aback, Spencer's heart is in her throat. But only for a moment. Because she wishes this was the kind of story where she could profess her undying love for him too, fall into his arms and live out their days together, but there's an ocean of sorrow, regret and pain between them, the waters are too treacherous to cross and their happily ever after is still pages and pages away. She points out, "But you _did_ get over that. You did. Because you loved her. You were going to marry _her_ … and not me."

He frowns and there's a stormy, unhappy look in his eyes. It's been so long since she's been a disappointment to him, but the pain she feels upon this realization is still the same. "That's what this is about."

"That's what this will _always_ be about," Spencer points out and the anger seems to have dissipated between them, for now. "I want you to be happy and I want you to have the love you deserve. Yvonne's it. She can give you… She'll do what I couldn't."

"Noble of you. But we're not all we seem on paper and she even said herself that we weren't meant to be," Toby says. "We were happy once and I loved her; I did. But that love you're describing? The love you think I deserve? The one I _want?_ That's with you, Spence. It's always been with you."

She recognizes this; a soft whisper of poetry in the damp, early morning. _My heart is layers of scar. I have loved since you. But when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath._

Spencer laments, "Don't fuck up a good thing because of me."

"That ship has already sailed," He smirks wryly. "Don't pretend you didn't know it would end this way. Don't pretend like this wasn't your plan all along; I mean, first Caleb-"

Spencer frowns. "Caleb has _nothing_ to do with this."

"Right," Toby snorts. "You know, I always knew seeing you with someone else would hurt, but Caleb? I never expected that kind of pain. Did you do that on purpose? Did you want to hurt me on purpose?"

"No. No, I didn't. I _swear_ ," Spencer pleads with him. "It wasn't like that."

Of late, she thinks of Caleb and only one thing comes to mind- song lyrics from one of his favorite artists that couldn't describe their situation any better. _Are we dating? Are we fucking? Are we best friends? Are we something in between that? I wish we never fucked and I mean that_.

Nothing good had come to her during that relationship and nothing good had happened, since.

When she glances at him again, he looks exhausted, like just speaking with her has completely run him ragged. "I just want you to say it. Just say it already. Please just tell me."

Spencer's shaking her head. "What the fuck are you even talking about?"

"Why did you kiss me, Spencer?" Toby asks again. "Why would you do that?"

"I told you," She insists. "I wanted to say goodbye."

"And I told _you_ that I want the truth," He replies. "Why did you kiss me?"

"I meant what I said," She states adamantly. "I wanted closure."

He gives her an ironic smile. "And did you get it?"

She doesn't have to say it; she knows he knows the answer. She'd kissed him and hadn't wanted to stop. She'd gotten the exact _opposite_ of closure and perhaps that's why she'd actually done it in the first place. Still, Toby asks, "Spencer… Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I loved you and I let you go. Because I had you and I lost you," Spencer exhales heavily and once the words have started, she cannot stop them. "Because without you my life has been a fucking mess, a disaster, a confusing whirlwind of emotion and trauma… But with you, it was perfect and I just wanted some semblance of that, just for a second, just so I could have one last taste of bitter regret before I lost you to someone else forever."

And now Toby's the one who can't find his voice and Spencer feels naked and raw as she admits, "I love you, okay? I still love you. I always have and I always will. That's the truth. And that's what you wanted, isn't it? Are you satisfied?"

He stands motionless for a moment and Spencer's heart pounds wildly against her ribcage every single second. Then, he crosses the room, grows closer to her, and she can tell he's going to kiss her before he does it, but she's still not quite prepared for it all the same. It's achingly tender and fervently heated and it makes her heart ache in the best way possible. Their last kiss had been rushed and ended abruptly; they'd been nervously testing the waters, coming back to one another after all these years despite the fact that they no longer belonged solely to one another. But this kiss… This kiss feels like coming home, like taking a leap off of the deep end and never looking back, like lovers reunited after long, treacherous years apart.

He caresses her face, kisses her again, cups her cheeks in his hands. "There. Was that so hard?"

And it wasn't, really. Realizing she was still in love with Toby was much more difficult than actually saying it. But still, she wonders, "Is this a good idea? Jumping back into things?"

"It's you and me. How can it not be a _great_ idea?" Toby asks and then sobers a bit at the look on her face. "You're having second thoughts."

"No. No, I do love you. With all my heart," Spencer professes and she wishes she could more accurately describe the way she's feeling. "I've just… I've messed up so many things in my life lately and I've been jumping from relationship to relationship and… I don't want to mess things up with you, especially not a second time. If you and I are going to do this, _really_ do this, then I want it to last forever. And I think I need some time to just… _be_ before I can commit to that."

Toby's hands drop back to his lap and he pulls back a bit, nodding. "Okay. You're probably right. I should do the same; Yvonne and I _just_ broke things off."

Spencer nods slowly; somehow, in the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten all about that. "Right."

"Yeah," He stands once more and heads back towards the open doorway, awkwardness quickly shuffling in where passion once stood. "I sold the house. I'm sure you heard that."

"Yeah," She nods and it still hurts. _The house. The one he'd been building for her_.

"I'm still planning on leaving Rosewood," Toby tells her and Spencer suddenly feels history repeating, only this time, they've swapped places. "You could come with me."

She frowns and thinks of her friends and all the things they have yet to accomplish. "I can't."

He nods. "I understand."

She knows he does, but it doesn't make it any easier. That night, for the first time since her hospitalization, she cannot sleep.

* * *

It's been a week since his hospital release and he's mostly healed. His brand-new truck is stocked with his belongings once more and he's ready to leave Rosewood behind when he gets the call.

" _The buyer would like to meet with you regarding the house. Something about termites._ "

"There aren't any termites," Toby replies impatiently, his realtor sighing on the other end. "It's a brand new house. I just finished construction two months ago."

" _Look, I didn't get the details but they were insistent they meet with you. They'll be there at noon._ "

Toby frowns but complies and spends the entire drive over stewing in anger. He jumps out of the truck, closes the door harshly beside him, and yanks open the front door of his house… only to find Spencer standing in the foyer, her face contemplative. Toby stops in his tracks, his eyes wide. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know anything about building or selling a house," She grins wryly. "But termites are bad, right?"

Toby's surprise wanes and a smile forms upon his lips. "You're the buyer?"

"I couldn't see this beautiful house going to anyone else," Spencer confirms. "It's mine, isn't it?"

He shakes his head. "Do you even have the money?"

"It's everything I've personally saved since I was born and most of my trust fund," Spencer admits sheepishly. "But, yeah, I have the money."

"I never knew you were a trust fund baby, but I should have assumed."

"Despite popular belief, you don't know _everything_ about me," She teases and then sobers a bit, shuffling her feet. "So you're really leaving, huh?"

Toby shrugs but nods. "There's nothing left for me, now."

Spencer asks, "Where will you go?"

"Haven't really thought about it," Toby admits honestly. "I was just planning to drive until I ran out of gas."

"Look, Toby…" Spencer sighs. "I'm sorry for what I did. I really am. I acted so selfishly and… I told myself that I was okay with you and Yvonne. I told myself that what I was doing was okay. And obviously, none of that was true. But… I hope you know that I really do want you to be happy. I really do want you to have all the love and support you can get because… You're the best person I know and you deserve it more than anyone."

Toby grins. "Thank you. I really appreciate that."

It feels just like that day, the one where both of their lives had ended when she wished him the best and they'd both gotten second chances that they had yet to do anything with. Spencer inhales a deep breath and apparently she isn't yet done confessing. "I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this. I'm sorry I even came back in the first place. I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, about Yvonne. And… I'm sorry I kissed you."

At this, Toby shakes his head. "I'm not."

Her eyes widen. "You're not?"

"No," Toby replies genuinely. "Maybe I needed your help to see Yvonne and I weren't right all along. Maybe I needed your help to see that I never really got closure after you and I broke up. Maybe I needed that kiss, too. You and I… we were great together. And I really do love you."

"We were," She agrees. "I love you, too."

"I wish…" He trails off, trying to find the best way to phrase his feelings. "I wish things had gone differently."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "Me too."

He glances around, at his craftsmanship, and asks, "You're not really going to buy this thing, are you?"

"Why not?" She wonders. "It'll be great to remember you by; that is, if you're still leaving."

"I'm still leaving."

"Well then…" Spencer shrugs. "I guess…"

"Yeah, I should…" He nods and steps back through the front door, out of the house and away from the memories they've not yet shared. "I should go. You know I hate goodbyes."

She follows him, her arms crossed over his chest. "Then stop saying them."

"What else is there to say?" Toby asks her and if she can find an answer, he'd love to hear it. She's silent and he isn't surprised. "I think we very publicly got it all out in the open in the hospital."

"Right," Spencer says. "And it didn't change anything?"

"Actually," Toby replies, twirling his car keys on one finger. "It changed everything."

He pulls open the driver's door and hops into the front seat, twisting the key into the ignition as his truck roars to life. "I'm staying with Emily one more night and leaving in the morning."

"Have a safe trip," She wishes quietly and he nods.

"Thank you," He replies. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

He hadn't meant it as a double entendre, but he wonders if she caught the meaning anyway.

* * *

She lies awake that night, the pain in her shoulder raging (they'd cut off her pain meds the moment she'd been discharged, given her history). This might be a pain she has to learn to live with, but losing Toby _again_ will not be.

It's been much too long since she's had something good in her life. It's the conclusion she comes to after a long empty night of lying awake and watching the stars sparkle and glimmer and fade with the waning night as the sun creeps up and over the horizon, yawning and stretching its rays over Rosewood as a new day dawns. She doesn't know when Toby's leaving this morning, but she's not going to let him leave alone.

When she arrives, she finds him placing two large boxes into the bed of his truck, the muscles in his arms and back flexing beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. When he glances up, shock colors his loving gaze, but also a small hint of knowing and she expects this. He's always known her better than she could ever hope to know and understand herself. "Hey."

"Hi," She greets him quickly and then realizes she isn't here to talk. "I changed my mind."

And then she manages to take him by surprise, because she steps closer, reaches up with her one good arm and pulls his mouth down to hers. His arms act on their own accord, wrapping around her torso and pulling her closer still, lost and stitched back together. She isn't entirely sure when she came to the conclusion that being with Toby _anywhere_ is better than staying here, broken and alone, but it's a decision she'd never go back upon. She's done trying to make others happy in spite of herself. She doesn't know what the future holds but if she has him then she knows they can weather the storms together. They'll work through their issues; there are still many things needing badly to be addressed. But this is something she knows she will never regret.

He pulls back a bit to ask, "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," Spencer replies truthfully. "Literally anywhere away from here."

Toby nods. "That can be arranged."

He holds the door open for her and she climbs into the passenger seat. She's giddy with nerves and with excitement and he takes the wheel, his free hand holding hers beside the gearshift.

The truck kicks up dust and gravel from the road as they set their sights on the highway, Rosewood shrinking in the rearview mirror behind them.

And they're gone.


End file.
